


Thanks For The Memories

by Reirachan



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reirachan/pseuds/Reirachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He started to wonder when it hurt more.</p><p>It was a quite pathetic thing. Think about the pain to forget about the pain, that was basically what he was trying to do. But it didn’t matter, if it could at least make it seem like it happened a long time ago. And he was already getting carried away by the line of thoughts, so what did it even matter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks For The Memories

Kasamatsu had always liked to cuddle. He felt so good, holding Kise in his arms, smiling slightly against his neck, his arms wrapped around Kise’s waist like he would never let him go, and he could hear Kise chuckle from time to time, because it was the one time Kasamatsu would actually allow himself to be a bit romantic, but he didn’t care and just hold him more tight, letting out a satisfied groan to feel the skin of Kise’s back, hot and soft, against his own.

He woke up with the sound of his own hand slapping the empty bed at his side.

He opened his eyes in a flash, immediately regretting this decision because waking up all of a sudden meant reality punching his stomach in the quickest move he’d ever seen, so fast that he took a while to understand why it hurt so much in the first place.

The bed was completely empty. He buried his bed in the pillow beside his, noticing that it did no longer smell like the brat’s shampoo, that Kasamatsu had to confess, was a quite good choice from his modeling agency. It just smelled empty, _and that makes sense_ , he thought, already feeling the trail of tears being pressed against his own eyes by the pillow.

He started to wonder when it hurt more.

It was a quite pathetic thing. Think about the pain to forget about the pain, that was basically what he was trying to do. But it didn’t matter, if it could at least make it seem like it happened a long time ago. And he was already getting carried away by the line of thoughts, so what did it even matter?

Probably it hurt more when he heard the call. After all, he did not want to admit that, but every day he would grow a little more used to it, leaving the denial and embracing reality, letting himself be punched by it until it just got tired and let him be. But at that moment, he was a pile of denial, tears and shock, and there was absolutely no way he could hold back the amount of feelings that hit him.

He saw the number on the screen, the one he knew so well. “Ryouta,” his phone pointed. He answered the call, and, before he could even greet his boyfriend, he heard an unfamiliar voice on the other side.

“Are you a relative to a blond, tall man with yellow eyes?”

His heart skipped a beat. Maybe three. Then it got back pounding full strength against his chest, and maybe if it had just exploded there, everything would be easier. His throat was dried off by a sudden limp that he tried to swallow before answering, his voice shaking, “yeah?”

The woman on the other side snapped, “he’s dead.”

Just like that. He didn’t know who she was or where she was or why she had Kise’s number. He knew that it didn’t matter one bit how Ryouta died, but he asked anyway, because maybe while he was still listening to someone else he could ignore himself. It worked, but it was not like it took too long to say, “car accident,” in that low, uncomfortable voice that snapped answers like she knew he was trying to deny it, and was trying to slap him to acceptance.

Maybe it hurt the most when he hang up, and the limp in this throat could no longer be swallowed, so he just vomited it in tears and screams of pain, punches in his wall and yells. That was probably when reality hit his shoulders full strength, or maybe just kicked his knees, because he fell on his knees, his fist glued to the wall, that was also touching his forehead as he let the tears flow, falling on his legs. The feeling was quite familiar, probably because that was how Kasamatsu usually cried. Yet, he would always have a pair of hands on his shoulders and a wry smile pointed at him, and even though Kise would always be completely silent and not say a word, he knew that he would do anything to make him feel better, to not let him cry again.

Now, the problem was that Kise _couldn’t_ do anything, because the brat was fucking dead. It would have been impossible to believe how stupid he was, if Yukio hadn’t grown used to it a long, long time ago.

Maybe it hurt the most when he had to look at the body to see if it was really Kise, and, moments before the doctor pulled out the sheet that covered Ryouta’s face, he had had hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t Kise and just another blonde who looked like him. He cursed himself and tried not to punch his own face. Of course it was Ryouta. The woman who found him called Kasamatsu using his cellphone!

Or maybe it hurt the most when the doctor had already pulled the sheets, and he could see Kise’s face clear as day, his white skin _pale_ like it had never been, his eyes shut close so Yukio couldn’t see the lack of life in his eyes, but he could _feel_ it, because Ryouta never slept like that, all limbs perfectly lined, he slept like the huge mess he was, his hair pointed at at least a hundred different directions, one arm wrapped around Yukio, one leg out of the bed, touching the ground, and he snored and even talked sometimes.

Now he was peaceful, and it was ridiculous because Kise would never, _ever_ be peaceful, he was a huge idiot that was always either screaming and jumping out of joy over the most stupid things, or crying and whining, also over the most stupid things. He wanted to beat the crap out of that fake, damned corpse, but instead he only swallowed his anger and said, voice shaking, “it’s him.”

And he left without another word, cursing everything he could on his way home.

But maybe even that wasn’t the most painful moment. Not even when he remembered how much he used to love that Kise would always get so happy over simple things, his eyes shining like gold when it faces the most generous sun, his smile growing larger as he said, “Yukiocchi, I’m so happy!” like he couldn’t tell. He was like a little kid, happy and simple, and Yukio loved and admired that. He was always so full of life, joy and determination that it was impossible to conceive a Kise with eyes that didn’t shine, just stared past Kasamatsu like he wasn’t there.

Maybe it hurt the most when he picked up the phone and it was Aomine, of all people, on the other side of the line. “Yo,” the bastard said, so casual like he didn’t give a _single shit_ , which was probably true, “Satsuki told me.”

Yukio scowled, “of course she did. Like there is any other way you would know.”

Maybe that comment would have annoyed someone else, but not that full of himself bastard. No, he just laughed, “That’s probably true.”

Yukio sighed, knowing it was useless to try to talk to this guy, “so what do you want?”

The younger boy sighed as well, “you know, express my condolences and shit. I’m not that good with this kind of thing and I don’t know what to say, but I also know that there’s nothing I could say to make you feel better, so I really don’t get the meaning of this.”

He could hear a sigh coming from beside Aomine. Oh, so it was Kagami’s idea. Well, obviously. Aomine would never go and talk to Yukio on his own. Kagami was the only person involved in the whole Generation of Miracles thing that he really liked, besides maybe Takao and Midorima. He was thoughtful and nice, and not a cocky little shit for once. He really did not understand why someone like him was dating _Aomine_ , of all people, but that was none of his business.

Kagami was also the only person who could make Yukio dislike Aomine a bit less. He would sigh and say to Yukio, in an apologetic tone, “I know he’s a bastard, believe me. But…” and he would explain why Aomine was acting like this and how he was actually trying to hide something else, and Yukio would understand him a bit more and forgive him. He thought that Kagami would probably tell him, “he really _is_ sorry, but he doesn’t know how to deal with the whole thing, so he didn’t want to call.” He could hear Kagami scolding Aomine on the line, though.

“It’s alright, Kagami,” Yukio said, “not like the bastard’s going to change just because Ryouta’s dead.”

And then Aomine did an impossible thing. He let his voice die to a pained mutter, without the full of himself tone everyone was so used to, and said, “sorry.”

Yukio nearly choked.

“I really don’t know what to say. I don’t even believe that Kise’s dead in the first place,” Aomine said, and he could hear a sob that he knew Aomine was trying to hide, “It’s not like we were really that close besides basketball, specially after middle school, but he _was_ there, and he was that joyful cheering bastard, and now he is dead? That fucking bastard just can’t stop surprising me, it’s like he’s doing it on purpose. I can’t believe a car just went there and crashed on him. Is he fucking stupid?”

He felt a limp on his throat, but he could swallow it, and answered simply, “yes.”

He knew it was impossible, but he _heard_ Aomine smirk.

“Yeah, he was stupid, probably the most stupid person I’ve ever met. He’s a dork, the perfect description of it. He would be so happy over stupid, _completely stupid_ stuff, and be a brat just for the hell of it, and then whine and complain when he was hit, but he never really meant that. He enjoyed being annoying so fucking much that I can’t believe it. He could never leave me alone and was always yelling like an excited puppy. He was so fucking _stupid_ , so stupid that I even _liked_ it,” he snapped all at once. Maybe that was when it hurt the most, when he heard himself talking about how annoying he was and realized that he loved and missed it. It’s not like he didn’t know he loved it, of course. That was why he was so attracted to him in the first place. Ryouta was always so happy and carefree, he could even make him feel this way. But he would always complain about it, and now he was being completely honest, to _Aomine_ of all people.

Aomine, who was just nodding in agreement, “he had this kind of power.”

Wow. Both him _and_ Aomine were being honest. Ryouta must have been a fucking magician, because that was supposed to be impossible.

He could hear Kagami groan, “it was still annoying, though.”

And maybe that was when it hurt the most. Because Yukio laughed, and that was the first time he had laughed in a while, and it _hurt_. His face hurt to laugh, his throat hurt because it was so dry, and it was like the sound was making the limp grow larger. Probably it hurt the most because he noticed that his laughter reminded him of Ryouta, the only one who could make it come out honest and clear, laughing along like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

Relating his happiness to Ryouta was so fucking stupid. _Why does it have to be him?_

Maybe it hurt the most when he saw Kise’s picture on his cellphone, and noticed that he had already forgotten some of his features, just _how_ handsome he was, how his hair would shine in the sunlight and his eyes at the sight of Yukio, how harmonious his face was, how his body was perfectly built, and his memory of him was a little more pale, less cheerful, more _dead_ , like he was slowly turning into his corpse in Yukio’s mind, and he wanted nothing but to punch himself in the gut.

That wasn’t really necessary, though, because the sight of that dorky smile of his already did that job, reducing Yukio to a sobbing mess once again, punching the wall like it was that motherfucker who _killed_ him. His tears were slowly turning into tears of anger, towards Ryouta, destiny, his murderer, and probably Yukio himself. He felt such hatred, it left him blind for a few seconds, and he screamed with all his might, not caring what the neighbors would think or do. Damn.

Maybe it hurt the most at his funeral, when Yukio was supposed to give a speech, but all he could do was to cry, breaking down in front of everyone, his knees shaking, a silent threat to crash him on the ground without any other warning. He tried to hide his face in his hands, sobbing and noticing that those tears were actually hot, unlike they should. Maybe that cold hand of reality that kept slapping him everyday was making his face unused to it. It didn’t really matter. He tried to wipe his tears, his eyes sore and burning in the air, and he knew that they were red, but it didn’t matter because everyone was crying.

“I don’t feel the need to say anything,” he said, and those were all his words. He was never one to talk about how he felt, unless of course it was Kise asking him to. Maybe if he talked, he could get rid of those feelings, but maybe he didn’t really want to. Maybe he was not ready to let Ryouta go. They lived together for years, after all. And it had only been a few weeks since he died. He knew that he couldn’t cry over him forever, that he would grow used to it and move on, and that, as sappy as it sounds, that would be what Ryouta wanted. 

But that’s as Ryouta would always say, “you won’t get rid of me so easily.” Of course he wouldn’t. There was Yukio, dreaming that they were sleeping together and remembering their relationship and everything he felt when he heard that Ryouta was dead, right? Punching the wall for the nth time that month, wiping his tear for the nth time that month as well, letting a wry smile curve his lips.

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

He could almost hear Ryouta’s voice tingling in his ears, “well, I can be tonight.”

And then he laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> I JUST WENT FROM INFINITE FLUFF WITH DANCING AND SINGING AND MARRIAGE PROPOSALS TO FULL DICK-ON-THE-BUTT TEARS AND PAIN. SORRY.  
> I'm a horrible person. Someone punch me.  
> Also, you know that it's your OTP when you write angst fanfiction about them at 5am  
> So, this was written at 5am, and I didn't beta, so if there's any mistake here just let me know, alright? Comments and criticism are always appreciated!


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